


Hear Voices Over My Shoulder

by citysonfire



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-29
Updated: 2013-03-29
Packaged: 2017-12-06 21:19:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/740277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/citysonfire/pseuds/citysonfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint’s going crazy, he knows it and he’s alright with it. If going crazy means that everything is just like it was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hear Voices Over My Shoulder

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this prompt (http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/4305.html?thread=2640081#t2640081) on avengerkink on LJ - a Post-Avengers fix it.   
> I’m not someone who knows much about mental health issues, Alzheimer’s is probably the only one I can talk about with confidence, so apologies if any of this comes across wrong. Any constructive criticism regarding this is always appreciated. Title is from Painting Flowers by All Time Low, which is kind of the theme song of this fic really. 
> 
> This was previously posted on my LJ comm.

Clint’s in their bedroom when he first see’s Phil. He’s just woken up and Phil’s sitting on the bed next to him, just watching him. Clint blinks sluggishly and rubs his eyes. “What-”

“You know, you really should have had a shower before collapsing into bed. These sheets look terrible," Phil blinks at them, "Is that blood on them?”

Clint can’t help but laugh. “Yeah well, that’s what fighting a crazy God does to you.” He winces but Phil’s small smile doesn’t falter. Clint sits up and stretches. “I’ve got to go in,” he looks at Phil, drinking him in, how his tie is a fraction loose and his suit is slightly rumpled.

Phil nods, “Have a shower before you leave, wear that red t-shirt.”

“Well I know how much you like me in red.” Clint doesn’t look back as he steps into the bathroom. When he comes back into their bedroom, towel wrapped around his waist, he’s not surprised that Phil is gone.

~*~

And so life continues. Clint wakes up, gets dressed, goes to SHIELD’s ground headquarters for briefings and psych evaluations, spars with Natasha, comes home, cooks, and goes to sleep on the couch more often than in the bed. He’s functioning, as well as could be expected says the shrinks. Clint doesn’t like them but Fury has found him each time he misses a session and on one memorable occasion dragged him to the meeting by his ear. Clint could have stopped him at anytime, he just didn’t want to. Didn’t want to think about how it should be Phil dragging him to mandatory meetings, how he should be the one debriefing him instead of Hill, it was all wrong but that’s how it goes.

Natasha is worried about him; Clint can tell but can’t quite bring himself to care. She’s been on the receiving end of brainwashing mad men, but she hasn’t been the one leading them to her lover, causing his death. They spar, their actions taking place of words. Clint spends enough time talking to the shrinks; he doesn’t need Natasha’s empty words of comfort and sympathy. He doesn’t need any of it, he doesn’t deserve it.

He comes home to Phil in their apartment most nights. Though he supposes it’s now just his. It was Phil’s apartment first; Clint had never owned anything in his life. He had his box of a room in SHIELD HQ for years before anything happened between him and Phil. Slowly he ended up moving in, he’s not sure how it happened really. First a toothbrush, then some underwear and then one day he looked around and realised that his stuff was all mixed up with Phil’s and that they had even bought some things together. Phil had eventually talked him though that mild freak out. And now the apartment’s just his. Except the times where Phil is sitting in the kitchen with the paper, or lying next to Clint as he falls asleep.

Clint knows he’s going crazy; maybe Loki’s mind control trick finally pushed him over the edge. Phil is dead. He died and Clint wasn’t even there to say goodbye. Natasha told him when he woke and he promised that he would put an arrow through Loki’s eye. He didn’t even get to fulfil his promise; he had to watch Thor take Loki away, back to Asgard, whilst wearing the red t-shirt that Phil liked so much.

~*~

Clint walks into the kitchen to find Phil already sitting there, looking through the files that Clint left on the table last night. Clint yawns and heads straight to the coffee maker. He takes two mugs and makes the coffee just how Phil likes it, and how he’s become accustomed to it over the years. It’s out of habit, but Clint doesn’t put the second mug away. He places the mug next to Phil and sits opposite him, eating sugary cereal out of the box.

“I see you’re getting a new bow,” Phil says, finally tearing his eyes away from the papers and looks at Clint.

“Yeah, Stark’s on a kick making everything that I own better than ever before. He’s doing the same for Natasha.” Clint takes a big gulp of coffee. “I think he might even be redesigning Cap’s suit.”

Clint grins at the small frown that appears on Phil’s face. He’s desperate to lean over and smooth it out, but he knows it would ruin his fantasy. “Don’t worry, I’m pretty sure the actual design will stay the same, he’s just infusing it with whatever super strong material he’s made now.”

Phil sighs, “Stark is… incorrigible.”

“I can see now why you threatened to tase him,” Clint laughs. “He misses you though.”

Phil raises an eyebrow at him, not believing a word of it.

“No really, maybe you should go and stalk his tower some time.”

Phil just looks at him.

“OK, that came out a bit wrong but you know what I mean. He’s more of a pain with Fury than he ever was with you.”

“I think we will have to agree to disagree on that one.” Phil says, going back to the report on Clint’s new bow.

“I guess we will.” Clint finishes off his coffee and heads back to the bedroom to get changed. He determinedly doesn’t look at Phil’s mug when returns and picks up the files.

~*~

It’s been five weeks since the end of the world and he’s still going to the psych evaluations. Clint sits there as the shrink tell him that everything that happened, killing innocent guards at the German research facility, leading Loki’s forces to the Helicarrier, the deaths of many fellow SHIELD agents including one Special Agent Phillip Coulson, was not his fault. He was not in control; he could not fight a god. Clint sits and listens, some of it goes in but really the shrink should know that no matter what he says, Clint will always feel the guilt. It’s just a case of time to see if he can work through it, push it aside and lock it away. Just like it’s going to take time for Fury and Hill to trust him again, even though they know it was not his fault. It’s human nature, all these conflicting emotions.

Natasha is still there, ready to spar and ready to talk. Clint takes her up on the first offer.

Stark doesn’t come to SHIELD HQ anymore, not unless he really has to. Fury has tried to assign different agents as liaison officers but Stark has them running for the hills in less than two days. Even Stark will admit that there’s no one like Phil Coulson. Clint likes Stark; he likes his distrust of everyone connected to SHIELD, bar him and Natasha. Although Stark always seems slightly on edge when Natasha’s around, muttering about neck-stabbing crazy ladies.

Stark gets drunk with him one night when Clint doesn’t want to go back to his apartment and see a row of cold coffee mugs. They’re in Stark’s basement; they’d been testing out Clint’s new arrow heads before calling it a night.

They talk and drink and sing and drink some more. It’s the most alive Clint’s felt since before. He’s not sure why but Clint starts talking about Phil, about how he’s never left.

“I know I’m going crazy, Loki must have made me finally snap. But I don’t mind being crazy if it means that I can see him everyday.”

Tony looks at him, considering him for a moment before simply handing over the bottle. Clint drinks and drinks. He stays there the night, with Tony on the couch. Somehow they manage to sleep on it together. It’s something they don’t talk about when they wake up with pounding heads.

~*~

He returns to the apartment (always the apartment, it hasn’t been home since the Loki situation) expecting Phil to be there, questioning where he’d been all night, but he isn’t. Clint’s alone and it hurts more than ever.

~*~

Two days later and there’s a knock on the door. Phil had been there this morning when he’d woken up but had gone again before Clint was out of the shower. It was a routine Clint had found himself accepting.

Clint opens the door to find Phil on the other side, wearing a neatly pressed suit and a tie with the thin red lines running through it.

“Huh,” Clint says, looking him up and down. “You got changed, and you don’t usually knock.” Clint shrugs and let’s Phil in, closing the door behind him.

“Clint I-”

“Stark’s made me some new arrow heads that contain acid and explode on contact.” Clint heads to the kitchen, pulling out mugs from the cupboard. Once again he ignores the row of mugs on the side by the sink, Clint went out and bought a new set of mugs the other week, these ones were red. He switches on the coffee maker. “They hardly weigh anything more than my usual arrows; we’ve been testing them out in his lab. That’s until one of his paintings kind of melted and Pepper had a bit of a fit.” Clint turns and grins at Phil whose still standing by the door, looking a little lost and confused. “I hasten to add that it obviously wasn’t me who hit the painting. Stark’s got shit aim when he’s out of the armour.” The coffee’s ready, Clint picks up both mugs and takes them to the couch where he’d been watching reruns of Supernanny. He puts them on the coffee table in front of him before putting his feet up on the table; it was one habit that Phil had never gotten him to break.

“Are you sitting down or what?” Clint asks without looking at Phil, if this was going to be a one of the very short visits he didn’t want to get too attached. “I don’t know if you’ve seen this one but this kid really reminds me of Thor. It’s as if he can’t physically talk, he has to shout.”

Clint sits there drinking his coffee and chatting about Supernanny whilst Phil sits beside him and says nothing. Clint wonders if he’s managed to upset Phil this morning and that’s why he’s being all silent and moody. It’s not as if every time he’s here they have long conversations about the meaning of life, but usually there’s some exchange of words.

Supernanny finishes and Clint turns to Phil, who is looking at him with concern and worry written all over his face. He looks worse than when Clint first woke up in bed after it all happened and he was sitting next to him, complaining about the sheets. Phil’s been here longer than he ever has before, Clint considers going into the bedroom or something to see if when he comes out Phil will be gone as usual.

Clint tips his head to the side and frowns slightly, “You’re not usually this quiet… And you don’t usually stay this long.”

Phil visibly tenses and Clint watches carefully as Phil leans towards him. “I don’t really know what to say Clint, except I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?”

Phil slowly places his hands on Clint’s shoulders. He can’t help but flinch, his mind’s really done it now. He can feel the pressure of Phil’s hands, the warmth of them seeping through his t-shirt. He’s lost it completely.

“I’m sorry for having to leave you for so long.” Phil pulls him closer and Clint finds his head buried against Phil’s chest. He can smell him, he smells of his aftershave and antiseptic and something that’s uniquely Phil. But he can’t be though because he isn’t real. He finds his arms wrapping themselves around Phil’s waist. He never wants to let go. This is just another dream, or one of those moments when Phil is back in his life. Clint will open his eyes and he will be holding a cushion or he’ll leave the room and come back to find it empty once more.

“What? No, no Clint! I’m not going anywhere, I’m here, I’m real.” Phil tightens his hold on him and Clint feels safe, feels happy like he hasn’t felt in weeks. He hasn’t felt anything in weeks.

Phil lifts Clint’s head from his chest, Clint can’t help the soft whine that escapes him, Phil can’t be leaving him, not now, this isn’t fair. But Phil doesn’t leave; he tips Clint’s head and meets his lips with a kiss, a soft kiss that promises of so much. Clint doesn’t know whether he should hate his mind or thank it.

They pull apart and Phil’s looking at him strangely, “Now Clint, I want you to leave the room and when you come back I’ll still be here. I promise I’ll be right here on the sofa.”

Clint doesn’t want to leave, if he leaves then Phil will be gone and who knows when he’s going to come back. But Phil is looking at him with such trust and determination, it’s like Budapest all over again. Phil trusts him to make the right decision.

Clint takes a deep breath and untangles himself from Phil. He gets up and doesn’t look back no matter how much he wants to. He goes into the bathroom. He stares at his reflection in the mirror and he looks a wreck, his hair’s a mess, his eyes look bloodshot. His hands are shaking as he turns on the tap and splashes cold water onto his face. Clint holds onto the sink and just breathes; he can go back in there and put the cold coffee mug next to the rest. He can carry on as normal, Phil will be gone and that will be alright.

Clint takes one more look in the mirror before heading back out into the living room. He stops short in the doorway. Phil’s still there, sitting on the couch where he left him. Phil looks up at him and tries to smile. It doesn’t look right though.

“How-” Clint almost chokes, “How are you still here?” He’s leaning on the doorway for support, this is new, this is totally different to how the routine goes.

Phil sighs and moves towards him, slowly unbuttoning his shirt. “I’ve been in hospital, off the radar for weeks.” He pulls his shirt open so Clint can see the bandages wrapped around his chest, a thicker amount just above his heart, where Loki stabbed him.

This is too much, Clint reaches out and touches the bandages, and he feels them scratch against his fingertips. This is all too real. “You died! Natasha said you died! Why would she lie?”

“She didn’t lie, technically I did die. For just over a minute I was dead before the medics brought me back. Fury told them what they needed to hear, they needed something to fight for.” Phil looks away from Clint’s face for a moment, “I’m so sorry, you had to believe it for so long. I couldn’t get out of hospital; I’ve been in a drug induced coma for two weeks and then they had to wean me off the pain meds. I thought Fury would have said something by now.”

Clint feels his legs buckle from under him. Phil tries to grab hold of him but he flinches away. This can’t be real, Fury is a bastard but he can’t have done this. Clint takes his phone out of his jeans pocket and looks at it. Who is he going to call, who wouldn’t lie to him, who would tell him the truth. Phil’s still talking but Clint can barely hear him as he dials the number.

The sound of AC/DC blares down the phone when it’s finally answered, “What’s up Barton?”

“Stark,” Clint stumbles over his words, too many thoughts inside his head, “Tony- I…”

There’s suddenly silence down the other end of the phone and Clint realises that Tony’s turned off the music, he’s shouting something at JARVIS too, “Clint, what’s wrong? Where are you?”

Clint takes a deep breath and tries to focus, draws patterns in the carpet next to him, “I’m at the apartment. I- Could you come over please. I think I’ve completely lost it now.”

Clint can hear an engine starting up, “OK Clint, I’m on my way. I’ll be there in ten minutes. Now don’t do anything stupid before I get there – we’re partners in crime remember? I’ve got another ugly painting that needs destroying….”

Tony talks to him and never hangs up. Clint keeps his eyes closed. He can feel Phil staring at him, he’s sitting across from him but Clint can’t look at him right now. He needs another opinion, needs to know if he can finally start trusting his mind again. Phil keeps trying to talk to him, telling him things that he’s never told Clint before, about how he didn’t know whether to kiss him or punch him on their first mission together, about the nights they spent in Phil’s office before they could have even classed their relationship as friendship.

Clint listens to both Tony and Phil but doesn’t reply to either of them. Just sits and waits for the verdict.

Tony’s there in seven minutes. He throws open the door without knocking, “Clint!”

“I’m here.” Clint finally opens his eyes, looking past Phil at Tony. He’s clearly come straight from the workshop; he doesn’t have any shoes on and just has a hoody thrown over his grease stained vest.

Tony doesn’t look at him to start with, he’s staring at Phil. He’s actually looking at Phil.

“You see him too?” Clint asks, so hopeful but so scared to believe it.

“Yeah, I see him Clint.” Tony steps forward.

Phil slowly gets to his feet, “Stark I-”

Phil doesn’t get to finish. Tony throws a punch hard enough that Phil stumbles and has to grab hold of the wall for support. Tony shakes his hand and seems pleased that there’s blood on it. Clint looks at Phil; he has a split lip and blood running down his chin. Clint scrambles to his feet, Phil’s bleeding, Tony can see him, he’s real, he’s here. It’s almost too much to process.

“You bastard!” Tony’s shouting now, he’s stepped in front of Clint, putting himself between him and Phil. “We thought you were dead! He thought you were dead!” Tony gestures at Clint behind him.

“You needed something to fight for. Fury said it was for the best and I agreed. He should have told you all once the crisis was over-”

“Why couldn't you tell us?” Tony interrupts.

“I was a bit busy being unconscious in hospital,” Phil says, dry as hell. Clint can’t help but smile. “I discharged myself as soon as I could walk.”

“You’re really here? You’re alive?” Clint asks. He makes to move towards Phil, Tony tenses and looks at him, studying him for a moment. Clint nods at him, it’ll be OK.

Tony sighs, “I’ll be at the coffee shop a block away. I want to see both of you there in an hour.”

Phil raises an eyebrow at him, “And what if I say no?”

“I’ll do more than tase you asshole.” Tony squeezes Clint on the shoulder once before turning and leaving the apartment. Leaving Clint alone with Phil; a Phil who is alive and physically there in front of him.

“I am so sorry Clint. I thought-”

Clint suddenly pulls Phil towards him, wrapping his arms around his neck. Phil quickly holds Clint as close to him as possible. Clint breathes him in and allows himself to believe, to know that this is real.

“When I’m certain that I’m not finally having a mental breakdown, I’m going to give you so much shit for what you’ve put me through.”

“I deserve it.” Phil says, running a hand through Clint’s short hair.

Clint’s not sure how long they stand there like that, wrapped around each other, breathing each other in. Clint knows that it’s going to be tough, he’s been so used to Phil disappearing on him that it’ll be hard not to be surprised that he’s still there. Clint holds on tighter, they can do this, they can get through this together. Clint never wants Phil to leave his sight again.


End file.
